


Together, We Ride!

by UnapologeticallyMeatwad



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crimson Flower, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Binary Byleth, Recruit Every Last One of Them!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-11-10 15:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20854358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnapologeticallyMeatwad/pseuds/UnapologeticallyMeatwad
Summary: Byleth chooses to protect Edelgard at the Holy Tomb, but due to circumstances, there is not enough time in that moment to convince their students to walk the same path as them.  Weeks later, while the war begins to seep into the esteemed halls of Garreg Mach, the Black Eagles wait for a sign.





	1. Prologue

"Due to extenuating…" Seteth pauses to make sure he captures the right word here. "... _circumstances_, I will be leading your class for the final moon of the term." His laser focused eyes scan over the Black Eagles classroom, and a pit forms in his stomach.

These poor children have been lead astray by what turned out to be heathens — Seteth should have trusted his instincts more. When Byleth passed through the doors to Garreg Mach, it was obvious to him at least that the person needed a proper investigation before admittance. But Rhea said that was not neccesary, so Seteth bowed back and let it happen. Admittedly, over the year, he has grown to trust the quiet mercenary, of course now he regrets that with every fiber of his being. If only he had acted sooner rather than wait in the corner for causation — but it is too late now.

The incident in the Holy Tomb has only just happened, yet things continue as normal. At least, he as faculty, continues as normal. For the children's sake. The students are changed, and it is doubtful that this will ever pass. He feels sorry for them.

Say what you will about Edelgard, but she was a friend to all of her peers. Much admired and intimately connected, they knew her as she knew them. Regardless of who she may have revealed herself to be, the students need time. It is not fair to expect them to fall into the same headspaces as the other students. Though the Archbishop has a different messsage for the former friends of Edelgard — and Seteth must try his hardest to censor it, because her harsh rhetoric should not be delivered to such wayward youths.

Originally, Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela were going to divide the Black Eagles, and spread them among their classes. However, there have been more than a few… _incidents_ — because of Prince Dimitri. Allegedly, Dimitri has been saying things so inappropriate and so disturbing, that many of Edelgard's former classmates have taken up arms against him.

Rhea thinks little of these incidents. She even went as far as to congratulate Dimitri for his conviction. The rest of the faculty, especially Hanneman and Manuela, feel differently towards this. As such, moving any Black Eagle into the Blue Lions classroom is unfeasible. Shifting all of them into Golden Deer even moreso.

Hence Seteth leading the classroom. He rests his scripted pamphlet against the podium and tries to seem more sincere in tone. "Rhea would not like it if she knew I were to say this…"

_This_ grabs some of the student's attentions, thankfully.

"...I understand how my presence may be uncomfortable for some of you," Seteth closes his eyes in concentration. "If this is true, merely say the word and I will leave you. Of course, we will have to arrange for an independent study program which will take time to develop and — " Seteth pauses as his daughter, Flayn, gives him a withering gaze from the front row. He blushes. " — it is okay to be forthright with me. I know this is a troubling time."

But it doesn't matter. No one says a word, despite their obvious disinterest in his leadership.

* * *

When Petra and Caspar walk onto the training grounds side by side, they are forced to step over a pile of mutilated mannequins that have been brutishly tossed off to the side. Standing at the center of the grounds is Dimitri, his eyes cold and indifferent as he circles yet another mannequin with his lance. He seems to be focused on something in particular, probably the dummy's neck, when he catches sight of the two Black Eagles.

"Now is not a good time," he announces darkly.

Petra narrows her eyes. She has heard much about how Dimitri has been taking the Flame Emperor's true identity the hardest, though she knows not why. But he is clearly affected, his voice reminding her of falling timber in the forest. Dark and crackling, not like the soft spoken boy she met many moons ago.

"We have needing of training too," Petra says a little coldly. "If the country is going to war, we must all be ready."

Half of Dimitri's lip curls upwards in delight. "We won't be going to war, because very soon I will be removing that woman's sick head from her body."

Petra feels a pull against her heart. Just the thought of something grotesque… is that really necessary? To be killing Edelgard? Yes, Petra feels used by her former House Leader, and that is a wound that she isn't sure can be mended… but Edelgard has been so kind to her ever since she arrived at Fodlan. She never had to be. To nearly every Imperial noble, Petra has just been a political hostage. But Edelgard still reached out her hand. Not even as some sort of scheme, but to be her friend.

This is what cements it for Petra — in the Holy Tomb, Edelgard's eyes never fell directly on her peers'. She was distant. Probably because she was scared. To talk of cutting her head off...

"You know what?!" Caspar snaps from besides her, marching over to the taller Dimitri with his hands on his hips. "I'm getting real sick of the way you talk about Edelgard, okay? She was our class mate and — "

"You're the son of Count Bergliez, are you not?" Dimitri crosses his arms, voice still caked in that obscene darkness. He does not wait for Caspar to properly respond. "Interesting."

Caspar frowns. "What's that supposed to mean? Just because I'm kinda short and — "

"_Interesting_ that your father killed Ms. Macneary's father in the Brigid War," Dimitri shrugs. "Yet still you work together. Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. You Imperials seem to have no loyalty in your blood."

"That does it!" Caspar cries out, swinging one fist at Dimitri, who doesn't even bother dodging it. The knuckle collides with Dimitri's jaw, cracking his head to the right.

Dimitri doesn't groan in pain, nor does he even really react. Just tilts his head back into place. "I don't understand why Garreg Mach is tolerating sympathizers like you."

"Sympathizers?" Caspar snarls. "I'm not — I don't know! I just think there are two sides to every story. We haven't gotten a chance to talk things through with Edelgard. Y'know, her and the Professor just kinda poofed when Rhea turned into that ugly dragon thing… but I'm sure they have their reasons."

Dimitri snaps, arm slashing outwards, lance cleaving the head from the top of the mannequin, which drops at his feet. One by one, his fingers curl in, loosening their grip on the lance so that it sways like the hands on a clock. It continues until he drops the lance and then draws in his fists. "You are foolish to think like that. I won't be surprised when we end up on opposite sides one day. Prepare yourself for me, Caspar."

"This is ridiculous," Caspar gnashes his teeth, but leans back and pops his fists up too.

This is too much. Petra steps in-between them and raises a hand to Dimitri's face. "No more of this!" she shouts. "We must not be doing the fighting with each other."

It's too late though. Dimitri slips out of his stance and knocks Petra right in the head with his fist. Her neck jerks backwards and she stumbles on top of Caspar. While she tries to adjust her footing, Dimitri swoops in again, fists crashing into her stomach at a flurry. It hurts. A lot.

Caspar screams bloody murder and jabs a heel into one of the mannequins, plowing it into Dimitri's ankle, knocking his foot off of the ground. The boys tumble in a heap, Dimitri breathing quickly, mouth locked into this small smile. But Caspar's eyes are manic, he holds Dimitri down by the chest and raises his fist high.

The only thing that stops Dimitri's head from getting split open like a coconut is a last moment Rescue spell from one of the faculty members, leaving Caspar with his bare, bloody fist flat against the stone floor.

* * *

"Bernadetta?" Ferdinand's voice hollers into the night two full minutes after the girl ignores his knock upon her door. Bernadetta shuffles deeper into her bed, drawing the covers higher and higher. She even considers biting down on the blanket so that her mouth won't expel any of those annoying keening sounds that will give her away.

"I know you are home, Bernadetta," Ferdinand announces plainly. "I see light from beneath your door. Now please open up."

Fiddlesticks! She should have blown out the candle or something… maybe she should just not ever light it up again! She can just sit alone and embroider in the dark. Maybe it could improve her vision… but first: Ferdinand.

"Um… go away!" Bernadetta cries out, rather tactfully, she thinks.

"But Bernadetta," Ferdinand sighs. "I have your homework. You have not been going to lecture after all."

"Um…" she bites her lip, surprised someone even noticed her absence among everything else that is happening. Then again, without Edelgard, Ferdinand has sort of taken it upon himself to act as the new Head of House. But in her humble opinion, it's a little late into the year for that. "L-leave it at the door!" she yelps.

"At the door?" the noble boy scoffs back. "Why we are at war, Bernadetta! For me to leave your texts out in the open, why, what if a spy were to pass through here… why, we might lose the war over such an incident!"

Oh no! He's right! The people really will hate Bernie then! No no no no no…

"Um… okay!" she sluggishly slides out of bed, gently tip toeing across the floor and tentatively touching the doorknob. Peeking behind the frame, she sees Ferdinand holding a massive stack of papers. It stacks so high it makes her heart fall right into the pit of her stomach. This is time she could use for embroidery, now sacrificed for stupid homework. Why do they even have homework? It's wartime. Byleth would never assign homework at a time like…

... oh, Professor...

Look at what you've done, Bernie! You made yourself sad.

Still, she takes the papers and carefully drops them onto her bed. Ferdinand doesn't leave though. He just stands there.

"What I just told you about the war and possibly espionage attempts due to your homework being left outside the door," Ferdinand frowns. "That was a lie. I apologize for tricking you into letting me in."

Bernadetta furrows her brow. A _lie_? Ferdinand Von Aegir of all people —_ lied _to her? Is that a sign of war, or is it a sign that she is being far too diffcult for any sane person to manage?

"Sorry for making you do that," she bows her head.

"Oh, no! Bernadetta, please," Ferdinand waves a hand through the air and politely bows to her. "It is on me. Do not worry yourself, though I do need to ask why you have been skipping class this past week."

Bernadetta's frown sinks deeper. "I've never really… um… liked school, very much. But the way the Professor taught us was really nice. She was really…" She pauses to tug on a loose strand of hair. "...understanding, and Seteth is great and all...but I just want to stay here."

"Hm," Ferdinand nods. "What you say makes sense to me. I too miss the Professor."

There is a long, awkward pause, which simply put — is the worst. Usually, these are the moments when people excuse themselves and bid farewell. But Ferdinand makes no moves towards such a thing, he just nods along with his clamped jaw. Bernadetta almost excuses herself, but that would be weird since it's her dorm room and not his.

"You know, Edelgard recently placed my Father under house arrest," Ferdinand announces plainly, eyes blank for what might be the first time. "He was a poor Noble, and surely abused his status to be selfish and greedy but I... um... I am at a loss of words."

Such a display of emotion makes Bernie uncomfortable, especially coming from someone as crisp and clean as Ferdinand. But he is obviously hurting, so she slides her chair over to him, then crosses her legs over her bed, fingers hooked onto her bare kneecaps.

"Apologies," Ferdinand pulls a fine handkerchief from his jacket and dabs at his eye. "I do not know what this means for my future, and I feel as though I have lost everything."

"Ferdinand..." Bernadetta frowns.

"Once again, Edelgard has ousted me," he shakes his head. "Yet, I miss her."

Ferdinand gives her a significant look, bright eyes unfortunately framed by haggard lines. "I sense there is a piece of the story I am missing. I think the Professor did not have the full picture either, but made her decision on impulse. She hesitated when Lady Rhea asked her to kill Edelgard and..." His voice trails off. "...despite what Edelgard did... had we not been separated from them and forced to stand behind Rhea... I would like to think I would follow them too. But we were not given the chance. It makes me so... _angry_."

Bernadetta sighs because she feels the same way, though chancing to say it out loud scares her. She believes that Edelgard wasn't using them, or even intending on killing them… but that is not a safe opinion to have at Garreg Mach. If anyone over heard, they could get really get in trouble.

There is not really an option but to cut the conversation short. It is actually the first time Bernadetta has ever wished to have more time with someone.

"Ferdinand..." She can't help but whimper his name.

Ferdinand lifts his head. "Yes, Bernadetta?"

"I understand."

* * *

"Flayn, you possess a Major Crest of Cethleann, do you not?" Linhardt drawls from across the table.

Flayn leans in closer to her clasped hands. Her blood is rare, and it is unusual for someone like her, who is not of noble upbringing, to have such a Crest. This is why Seteth warned her to stay away from bookworms like Linhardt and Hanneman, and did she listen?

In fairness, Flayn has been feeling rather lonely. Ever since the Professor left and joined forces with... oh, she cannot bear to even think that name, but since then, she has felt so sad.

"Yes," Flayn says crisply.

"Hm, good," Linhardt smiles to himself, the bags under his eyes more crackly than usual. Though it possible it is a mere trick of the candlelight. It is the only light that shines in the library, which is supposed to be closed at such late hours. "You may know this… or have _felt_ this… but I myself possess a Minor variant of your Crest."

Flayn leans back. "I am confused. What is it that you are asking me?"

Linhardt takes in a mighty breath, or possibly, a yawn. It is hard to tell with him. "Have you ever felt an attraction towards me?"

Flayn blushes. "You are quite cordial and bright... but no."

"You don't have to find me attractive, Flayn," Linhardt drawls. "Just... an abnormal interes in me. Like a magnetic pull."

"Am… am I supposed to?" she furrows her brow. This conversation has not gone where she expected. This conversation also rides the line that Seteth has forbidden any boys at the academy from crossing.

"I have a theory that people who share Crests feel a pull towards one another," Linhardt sniffs. "Our — erm - Professor — they have a very Crest. The Major Crest of Flames. Previously undiscovered. But I don't think they are the only one to possess it. You see, Flayn, based on my studies with... let's say an anonymous student... it is possible for someone to have two Crests."

She opens her mouth in protest. She feels very cold inside. Two Crests would be against the Goddess' will. It could only happen through a process that is highly unnatural.

"I know... I know... they say it is not possible," Linhardt says. "But there are groups who have experimented on people, and succeeded. Now, and this is the point of why I'm asking you… but… Edelgard, we all know, has a Crest of Seiros. That much is clear."

Flayn thinks that over and then nods.

Linhardt smiles back, likely amused that she is bright enough to follow his ramblings. "When we fought Edelgard back in the Holy Tomb, she — she moved differently. We destroyed her forces so fast and when her back was up against the wall, I noticed that she was tapping into a different sort of power that we have never seen from her before. Now, I've done a study, comparing and contrasting her newfound abilities to other Crest-bearers."

Linhardt stops talking as his eyes get watery. He brushes some tears away but more drip out as soon as his fist draws away from his cheek. "Sorry. Um. I..."

Linhardt meets eyes with her and she remarks how round his face is, how childish his haircut is. He is a boy after all, not yet a man, and he seems to be sad that he just lost his closest friends.

Lindhardt slams both wrists across the table in an effort to control himself. "If I am right, and I know I must be, or have to be… Edelgard also has a Crest of Flames. If she does, that could explain why Byleth and her were so connected to each other, against all logic. And it would explain why our professor was so quick to... to..."

Linhardt bites his lip and looks away, hand bowing into his green locks until finding a good hold on the back of his neck. "...why they were so quick to leave us behind."

* * *

"So Edie went behind our backs and raised up an army without any of us noticing. Who knew the kid had it in her?"

Seteth frowns, not quite sure how to approach this. Dorothea is the first Black Eagle to take advantage of his open door policy. He can tell that this has been hard for her; Dorothea hardly makes eye contact with him after all. She holds her arms together, fingers playing her forearms like a piano.

Seteth cannot possibly imagine what these children are going through, but unlike _some_ faculty, he is at least willing to listen. People like Catherine have already turned a cold shoulder to any who try to sympathize with the Empire.

"_They are digging their own graves sympathizing with someone who would hurt Lady Rhea."_

Seteth disagrees; he loves Lady Rhea too, obviously, _but_… it is not possible to make it all so cut and dry.

"Professor?" Dorothea tilts her head to the side. "Are you still with me?"

"Hm?" he says before catching himself. "Ah, apologies. I was… thinking."

"Well, don't close the door on me," she huffs.

"You were close with Edelgard, were you not?" he offers.

"I want to say _yes_," she responds so quickly, as if this was already on her mind. "But I did not see this coming."

"No one did, Dorothea."

Her eyes narrow. "Well, I think we should have. If we want to claim to be her friend at least."

A pause falls between them; he is at a loss of what to say. What could possibly grant her comfort? Lady Rhea will eventually quell her rage and find it within herself to protect students like Dorothea. As such, she needn't worry about such things.

"I read her manifesto," Dorothea announces plainly, clearly checking for Seteth's reaction. Said manifesto is a forbidden text, but Seteth will put a pin on that for now. "Edie wants to abolish nobility, starting with the Crests system… and well, I think everyone here knows my feelings towards nobility."

Seteth shakes his head. "Forgive me, my head has been in the dirt… would you mind…?"

A red flash of annoyance. Dorothea rattles it off quickly, "I grew up as a homeless orphan in Enbarr. I only became a songstress because a rich noble overheard my singing. But they thought I'd forget them, those hypocrites."

Seteth raises an eyebrow. "Them?"

"The people who literally spat on me and laughed at me for having nothing. When I became a star, they turned around and tried to court me. Gifted me, showered me with praise even!"

Seteth's shoulders fall back. This is so complicated. "Perhaps they were trying to atone."

She cackles. "Atone? Ha! No, they just forgot who I was, because back then, I was nothing but dirt to them. I hate them."

"Hate is a strong word, don't you think?"

She eyes him carefully. "Generally? Sure. But for them? never."

"Not all nobles are like that, Dorothea," Seteth explains. "Look at dear Ferdinand from your class. He is the pinnacle of nobility."

"He is the worst of them, actually," Dorothea crosses her arms. "I agree with Edie, Professor. I… I just don't understand why we have to go to war to destroy the Crests system. Why we can't just talk it through?"

Seteth nods; he misread this situation. He didn't understand she just wanted someone to talk to, he thought she wanted advice, hence earning her fury. "On a separate note, Dorothea… while I appreciate your — ah — drive to understand the finer nuances of this war… I believe I was very clear when I told your class that Edelgard's manifesto was not to be distributed… or discussed. It's… heretical."

She smiles. "Oops."

Dorothea's coyness is upsetting. This is no joking matter.

"You are not in trouble," Seteth explains carefully. "But I must ask where you got it from."

She doesn't even flinch. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

It is — difficult, to control his temper.

"Our school has had issues in the past with spies," Seteth's voice is so cold it chills his own bones. "Tomas. Monica. Jeritza. Edelgard. Hubert. Byle—"

"Don't you dare accuse our professor of that!" Dorothea's opera trained voice echoes down the esteemed halls of Garreg Mach. Goddess, he prays Rhea did not hear. Not for his sake, but Dorothea's.

"What else are we to conclude then?!" Seteth finally snaps. "Byleth sided with the _enemy_. Regardless of what it is that you think, or — or feel… the Empire robbed the graves of holy figures. They threatened the Archbishop, and have now declared war on us. Dorothea. I need a name."

Her eyes drop and some of that frigid demeanor drains away, leaving the sad eyes of someone who is very lonely. The name is on the tip of her tongue, but clearly, it gives her pain to even consider outing them.

Who is Dorothea close with? Petra comes to mind, but she would never do such a thing, not as Brigid royalty. It must be someone who either holds little prestige for Garreg Mach… or one who knows they will get away with it. Because of seniority.

…

Hanneman. Seteth has seen the Crest scholar fraternize with Dorothea before. Due to her upbringing, she has always gotten along stronger with older folks. Yes, that makes sense. Plus, while Hanneman has never made his motivations clear to Seteth, he is familar that the man abhors nobility, and clearly has some ulterior motive in his Crest research.

If any of them were to turn, it would be him. That is… upsetting. But Seteth will have to talk to him, and it is possible he may need to ask for Shamir and Catherine to back him up as bodyguards. It is not safe to assume that anyone will go peacefully anymore, not how after one of their own star students raised her own blade to…

...he cannot even think of it. It is too painfully.

"Nevermind," Seteth says. "That is all. You may go."

Dorothea looks up, and briskly gets to her feet.

"I apologize that this was not comforting as you would have hoped," Seteth says behind claspsed hands.

Dorothea smirks darkly. "You _apologize? _It's your fault for closing the door."

Dorothea turns away and steps into the hall, hand still clenched on the knob.

"Here, I'll make it official for you."

The resulting slam of the door is far louder than her shout was earlier. Seteth must now postpone his visit with Professor Hanneman and retreat to Rhea, and make sure that she her temper remain even so that it may not scorn the students.

* * *

It is unwise to appear on the campus like this. Security has definitely been upped since the incident at the Holy Tomb. Byleth cannot help but feel frustrated at things needing to have come to_ this_ for Garreg Mach to finally take its security seriously_._ Imagine if it were like this before Flayn happened, or before the Holy Tomb. Think of what could have been. But no. Garreg Mach is only safe now because its Archbishop has been threatened.

Perhaps it is cynical to think like this. Perhaps they are biased. It is a difficult time to not be biased. Edelgard forcing everyone's hands has made it so.

Byleth pulls their cloak tighter to their chest. If anyone is to spot them, there will be a fight. That is inevitable. But also far too soon for the young Professor. They are still adjusting to having to wage war against the emblem of the Goddess. They are not yet ready to raise their blade to former friends. Like Shamir or Alois, or even the Gatekeeper.

It is not even certain if their students will walk the same path as them. Ferdinand, Petra, Caspar, Linhardt, Bernadetta, Dorothea… their students. They might raise their blades to the Empire as well, and what then? What will be left?

Edelgard has been morose since the Holy Tomb, far more than usual. It is obvious that Her Majesty misses her friends dearly, and regrets how poorly she handled her reveal of the truth. But despite that, she demanded that Byleth forget about Garreg Mach; _there is far more for you to lose there than there is to gain, my teacher_.

But Edelgard is wrong. It became apparent the moment Byleth lowered their blade and took their spot besides Edelgard. Edelgard was _shocked_, still might be shocked too. She has always assumed the worst, never gifted trust to anyone because of — because of what happened to her. It's not right; she needs her friends back.

Besides, Byleth needs them back too. It is lonely having to sit across Hubert all day drawing up strategies while the raven haired boy occasionally threatens to murder them in their sleep.

Byleth also has a hunch. If they are correct, and they usually are…

...their students need them. Now more than ever.


	2. Bernadetta

A soft knock at Bernie's door — who could possibly want her so late in the evening? Usually, a guest at this hour would be like… Hubert. But Hubert doesn't have time to threaten to kill her when he is probably busy building an entire resistance to match Emperor Edelgard's ideals.

Feeling a bit braver than usual, Bernadetta gets to her feet and creaks across the floor, not even bothering to ask who it is. She has been at Garreg Mach for almost a year now, and if she is going to continue cowering at basic things like a knock at her door, then she might as well accept she is pathetic and will never change. But you know, she is stronger than that and stuff.

Bernadetta's hand grabs the knob and she hesitates. What if it is Hubert, a-a-and he is on the other end waiting to stab her? "_You should have sided with Lady Edelgard!"_ he'd wheeze before stabbing her in the gut. It is unlikely… but possible! Hubert totally would.

She opens the door and the second her eyes rise to meet the gaze of her old Professor, Bernadetta almost passes out.

Byleth frowns, looking a bit worse for wear. Their hair falls a bit heavier onto their shoulders, and their face seems tired. But soon, they smile and raise their arms.

"I brought cake," Byleth says simply.

* * *

If there were ever a way to lay out a rat trap for Bernadetta, it would definitely involve cake. It is one of her many weaknesses. She sits at the edge of the dock besides her professor, jabbing her fork into the cake over and over again, scooping the delicious, spongey goodness into her mouth. "Do you want some?" she is still chewing, so she raises a hand over her mouth to at least be somewhat polite.

"No, thank you," Byleth says, gaze held on the ocean. "Like I said, it's all for you."

Bernadetta swallows one particularly large piece and turns to Byleth. "Is this — um — like an apology… or um…"

"A bargaining chip?" Byleth suggests.

Bernadetta blushes. She must be so transparent to be so easily read.

"I know you don't like being outside your room, especially at night," Byleth explains, their voice so soft. "I need to talk to you about something and I didn't want Annette and Mercedes overhearing."

Bernadetta nods. "Is — is this about the war?"

Byleth bows their head, taking their time to find the right words probably. "Yes. As you know, Edelgard has waged war on the Church and — "

"Whoa," Bernadetta chirps. "You don't call her _Her Majesty?_ Wow, Professor, you must be — "

"Oops," Byleth bites their lip, a soft pink crawling into their cheeks. "Sorry. I am so used to… _Her Majesty_ being my student that… though I don't think she minds when I call her just Edelgard."

Bernadetta isn't quite sure what to say to that, so she looks back out at the ocean. Sometimes, she comes out here to hang out with Alois. He enjoys fishing, but is far too funny for his own good, and scares all the fish away with his boisterous laughter. She enjoys his company though. It's weird — being in one of the few places she is comfortable going to outside of her room, but with the person that usually doesn't bring her there. It's almost like a violation. Should she go apologize to Alois later? Or is that too much? Maybe she could ask Dorothea, the girl is a bit better at handling having friends than she is.

"Did you hear me, Bernie?" Byleth asks, looking past their shoulder.

"Huh?" Bernadetta frowns. Oh no! She must have spaced out! Stupid Bernie, dammit, maybe Byleth was warning her about Hubert coming to kill her and now she'll never —

"I was saying I don't think Her Majesty would mind you calling her Edelgard either, Bernie," Byleth says, either ignorant of the panic in Bernadetta's eyes, or just really good at playing it cool.

Wait. Why would Bernadetta even be talking to Edelgard? Unless…

"A-are you asking me to join the Imperial Army?" Bernadetta stutters.

Byleth doesn't move. "Yes."

"Oh," Bernadetta looks into her lap, kneecaps squeezing together. "I dunno. Is that a good idea? I'm a coward, Professor. If I was brave, I would have joined you and Edelgard right away…"

"Well, Rhea had turned into a horrible dragon, I wouldn't blame you for not renouncing your allegiance to the Church right in front of that monster," Byleth smirks, holding their hands out. It takes Bernadetta a moment to understand that they are asking for her to hand over the plate with the cake that is left.

"Bernie, I know it's hard for you to understand," Byleth says, smiling greedily at the cake and diving in with the fork. "But you have always been invaluable to the Black Eagles."

Bernadetta shakes her head. "No way. I'm nowhere near as good as like — Ferdinand or Caspar or — "

Byleth shakes their head very defiantly. It shuts Bernie up fast. Still chewing on a bitlet of cake, Byleth says, "Do you have any idea how many times you saved us with your bow? I've never met someone who could so accurately fire an arrow from so far away. Not even Petra can do that."

Bernadetta raises a finger in protest, but pauses to think that over. Byleth is right, after all. The only one who really rivals her at the bow is Ashe, but he's in Blue Lions…

"How about that time Miklan was trying to chase us out of his tower?" Byleth very tentatively places a hand on Bernadetta's shoulder. "Remember how Caspar got cocky and thought he could take Miklan on his own, and then goofed up and had to retreat? He would have _died,_ Bernie, had you not been able to snipe at Miklan from afar, shooting an arrow so precisely at his knee that you were able to glue him into place for a moment."

Bernadetta retracts from Byleth's touch. She's never really known how to deal with this kind of stuff. After every battle, Byleth and Edelgard would always throw a little celebration for the 'MVP,' and a lot of the time it was Bernadetta. They would go to the dining hall to feast, and once the cake landed on her plate, Ferdinand would raise a chalice high in the air and chant, "Speech! Speech! Speech!"

Bernadetta shrinks even more inward. "I don't know…"

"How about this then?" Byleth says. "You are a really cool person and we want you to be around."

Bernadetta furrows her brow. "_We?_"

"Mhm," Byleth smiles. "Me, Edelgard, and Hubert."

"_Hubert?!"_

"Shh, shh! Keep your voice down," Byleth pats Bernadetta on the shoulder, laughing, despite themselves. "Yes, Bernadetta. Even Hubert. He has actually expressed some sadness in not getting to talk to you more."

"Wow," Bernadetta mutters, finding it hard to keep any of her feelings to herself. "Hubert likes me… wow. Um. Okay."

"Also," Byleth emphasizes. "Keep it to yourself, but we're planning on taking Garreg Mach. It's a great base, strategically speaking, because of its positioning between Faerghus, Adrestia, and the Leicester Alliance. Additionally, it's symbolic because of it being the Central — "

Bernadetta's eyes go blank. She feels bad, and she knows talking about military strategy is bound to set Byleth glowing, she just doesn't understand any of it.

Byleth catches this, and stops themselves. " — I'm saying you'll get to keep your room, Bernie," and smirks for good measure.

"My room?!" Bernadetta practically shrieks.

"Shhh!" Byleth charges Bernadetta, ducking the two of them so that there almost flat against their thighs, just two lowly black blobs at the end of the pier. It is ironic that Byleth wants them to be so quiet when they themselves can't stop themselves from laughing at this point. "Yes, though."

Some time passes, and Byleth gently pats Bernadetta on the back, signalling it is okay to get back up again. They meet eyes. Bernadetta's heart is beating so fast.

"So — what do — um — what do I have to do?" Bernadetta asks, very consciously trying to keep her volume down.

Byleth grins from ear to ear. "Just say yes."

Bernadetta smiles back. "_Yes!_ Uh — I — I mean — okay…"

Another clap on the back, and Bernadetta is promptly asked to go to her room and pack her things. For they leave tonight.


	3. Caspar

It's late and like other Black Eagles, Caspar can't sleep. He tried setting up a late night training routine, as a sort of acceptance that he won't fade into dreams until the sun rises, but not even Petra was down for it, and Linhardt would rather use the time for studying. So here he is, bobbing and weaving around a mannequin that is obviously going to do no harm to him.

Doesn't hurt though. Any kind of practice is good practice. The country is going to war after all and though he isn't sure what side he'll end up on, Caspar knows in a year's time he will be in the thick of it.

The whole Edelgard being evil or whatever thing definitely sucks. His usual training partners, Felix and Raphael, don't really want to talk to him because of that.. He's positive that one of the faculty has been giving all of the Black Eagles a bad rep. Because Raphael and Felix would never be so judgmental.

So Caspar's pissed. Angry enough this his knuckle just might cleave the dummy's head off the torso. But if he does that, he won't have a head to practice his uppercuts on, seeing how Dimitri already ruined the other dummies…

So color Caspar surprised when another human being shows up on the grounds. Caspar immediately pulls away from the dummy, flashing his widest of grins. "You can't sleep either?" he asks, expecting Petra or someone else who's equally as cool.

The figure doesn't respond. Seeing how they're all wrapped in a scary black cloak, it is actually highly likely this figure isn't here to train. Caspar catches his mistake and raises both fists. "Hey, man, if it's trouble you want, it's trouble you'll get, yeah? Prepare to get — "

"Pipe down, Caspar," the figure grunts, drawing their hood back past their forehead, revealing long, teal locks. "It's me."

"Professor?!"

* * *

One long explanation later, and Caspar is still confused. He rubs his forehead and tries to look Byleth directly in the eye, but it's hard. Everything about this just feels so… wrong.

"I gotta admit," Caspar sighs. "I'm kinda surprised you came back here. I mean, Catherine and Rhea are really ready to sink their teeth into you."

Byleth shrugs noncommittally. "That's okay, I figured."

Caspar crosses his arms and sucks on his teeth. "Where's Edelgard, Professor? No offense, but I kinda want to talk to her first."

Byleth nods. "I know."

_I know?_ What is that supposed to mean? Does Byleth feel the same way? Have they also not talked to Edelgard yet? If so, that totally sucks!

"The Emperor is handling some diplomatic issues at the capital," Byleth explains, voice as still as ever. "Most of her advisors are these old, balding men, and she's trying to sift through them and find better ones who aren't so spineless. I'm actually not supposed to be here, but here I am."

Caspar watches Byleth carefully; it is bizarre to him that they are so calm after everything that has happened. He's been lowkey freaking out the past moon, and Byleth is acting like nothing of consequence happened at all. It makes him kinda mad, but then again, everything makes him mad lately. It's not new.

"Edelgard doesn't want you talking to us?" Caspar asks.

"No," Byleth bites their lip. "It's complicated. Too complicated for me to explain here, but understand that the Emperor misses you. She just — she just never guessed in a million years and that we might have stood besides her."

"Huh?" Caspar rests a hand on his head. "That's stupid. Of course we'd join her." He looks up and sees Byleth smirking at him with such — maybe it's pride? "What?"

"So you're saying you'll join us?" Byleth asks.

"Oh, um, uh," Caspar frowns. "This is a little fast, don't you think?"

Byleth nods. "We don't have time."

Caspar shakes his head. "I need time, though. Professor, like, this is going to be a huge war, isn't it?"

Wow, that's a stupid question. Obviously it's going to be war. Edelgard said the word _war_ in that manifesto he wasn't supposed to read…

"I want to go, Professor, believe me, I do," Caspar says, almost more to himself than anything. "But I'm confused. Can you answer a few questions for me?"

"Of course," Byleth smiles again, so knowingly too. But what do they know? They definitely know_ something_ but…

"Doesn't Edelgard work with like Solon and Kronya and those guys?" Caspar asks, noticeably standing a safe distance away from Byleth. "If… if someone like that did that to _my _Dad… I don't think I would work with them, no matter what ideals they have."

Byleth slumps at that. That probably stung them a little but… that's the truth, isn't it? Caspar believes in the war, believes in ending the toxic Crests system, it's just that… Byleth was so quick to turn on who they used to be. It's not exactly the kind of characteristic that makes someone trustworthy, ya know?

"Do you remember how the Flame Emperor came to us after Remire?" Byleth asks with some caution.

"Yeah, and he — " Caspar stops himself. Right. Edelgard is the Flame Emperor. " —_ she _told us that she had nothing to do with that. But — "

"Later on," Byleth interrupts. "Edelgard asked me if I believed the Flame Emperor, and I told her I did. That a lot of what was happening wasn't explicitly connected. Edelgard was… shocked, beyond words. At first, I thought it was because she didn't think a mercenary like me could be so trusting, but now I know what it was."

Caspar waits for Byleth to continue. He wants to say something but he knows that this is too important to interrupt.

"Edelgard uses those people for power, because she isn't strong enough without them," Byleth says, a little strain of frustration behind their normally level tone. "Those people — Kronya and Solon — they didn't want Edelgard to work with anyone, to have any real connection with someone who could actually help her… without the abuse. I think they hit Remire because they knew it mattered to me, and they killed my father because — well… I know what it sounds like, trust me, I've thought about it. But I've met enough people in my life as a mercenary who only wanted to use me. Who would underpay me and send me out on suicide missions. Who would cower when I returned. Edelgard isn't like them. Despite what she did as the Flame Emperor, I don't think she ever once lied to me. That is enough to gain my trust."

A few seconds pass and Caspar realizes that it is now his turn to talk. But he doesn't really have anything to say, nothing that is so complex and organized and…

"Why did you tell me all that?" Caspar asks. "I — I mean, you already know I'm joining up anyways?"

Byleth nods, but doesn't say anything.

Caspar continues, "I just feel bad, ya know? You just talked about this whole thing, and you didn't need to, I'm just being a twerp and — "

"You're not being a twerp, Caspar," Byleth's voice is so strong in this moment. "I am aware that I am risking my life by fighting in this war, by even showing up here. But I believe in it all, and most importantly, I believe in you. I believe that you'll make the right choice."

Caspar itches his nose. He still doesn't want to say _Yes_. Because that's what he always does, and maybe this is the time he needs to grow up and try something else. "What about those Demonic Beasts? Those things aren't cool, Edelgard has to know that, right?"

Byleth frowns. At least they hate those hideous things too. "Yes. It's — complicated. If you can recall, that general in the Holy Tomb we fought… wasn't of sound mind. I don't think Edelgard has the best forces and had to rely on those things to supplement. But I'm going to change that. Believe me when I say Edelgard has been through a lot and hasn't ever understood how much we all love her."

"Wow, this is intense," Casapr mutters. "I didn't know she was herself that way. She's always been so… bossy."

Byleth crosses their arms. "Well, Linhardt sleeps through lectures, and you copy his homework."

A jolt to Caspar's heart — they knew he was cheating?! Oh man, not good!

"Edelgard doesn't need um… Hubert calls them _those who slither in the dark_," Byleth says.

"Ew," is Caspar's gut reaction. "Fitting name, but that's gross."

"I know," Byleth smiles. "But we don't need them. We are strong enough together."

Damn. We we we we. So confident. We don't need this. We are strong enough to do that. It's like Byleth already knows where this is going. Is he that easy of a mark? It makes him want to say no, just to like, make a point that he's not so easily convinced.

Caspar leans against the mannequin, heart pounding, because he doesn't want to say no just to be a devil's advocate. Linhardt does that a lot and it's really annoying. But still — saying yes? That's like a big deal. So he crosses his arms, shifting into his tough guy stance. "Who else do you got so far?"

"Bernadetta," Byleth replies fast. "You're the second person I am talking to."

"Ah," he says. "And you're talking to everyone else from our class then, right?"

Byleth nods. "Except Flayn, I suppose. I don't think that would go over well…"

Caspar frowns. "Yeah. Probably a good idea. Damn. I'm gonna have to like — fight Lady Rhea and Thunder Catherine and — "

Byleth just about gasps. "You're in?!"

" — what? Yeah, Professor," Caspar itches the back of his head. "That's what I've been telling ya! I'm super down, I just — I'm hesitant but… oof."

Caspar says _oof_ because out of nowhere, Byleth charges him and wraps their arms around his body, pulling him in close. It's… nice. He never expected Byleth to be so cuddly.

"You're going to have to train me to be super strong, Professor," Caspar says, and he's pretty sure he's crying now. Because hoo wee, this is a lot. "Even if I get as strong as Thunder Catherine, she's got a solid height advantage over me, so like — I gotta get really tough to take her out."

Byleth leans back, blinking rapidly. "Height advantage — what?"

"Huh?" Caspar almost scratches his head, but is too enraptured in the hug to bother. "Linhardt's dad beat up my dad because of like — height advantage stuff."

"Oh," Byleth tilts their head, as if looking at Caspar for the first time. "Yeah, I guess you are kinda short, huh?"

"Um…" Caspar frowns. "This isn't quite where I wanted this going…"

Byleth suddenly pushes Caspar back to an arms' length, looking at him very seriously. "Don't worry, you'll be great. Now. We'll celebrate soon. I need you to pack your things, and meet me at the marketplace within the hour."

Whoa. An hour? That's pretty fast! How is Byleth going to recruit the others within the hour, that's like — oh, yup, there they go, already running to the exit. Just like old times. The Professor was always running around Garreg Mach to talk to everyone every month. It checks out.

(Meaning his wonky theory that he cooked up with Linhardt that maybe Byleth died and got turned into those weird Kronya things isn't a thing anymore.)

"Um — uh — yeah, okay!" Caspar shouts. "I'll see ya soon, Professor!"

Byleth stops and turns on their heel, cheeks a rosy pink as they lean in, giggling. "Shhhhh!"

Wow, what got into them? They were never like this. Huh. Maybe… maybe being on this side of the war won't be so bad after all!


	4. Linhardt

"Hello Professor," Linhardt drawls over his shoulder, focused on a book in the library that has regretfully been perched far too high on the shelf.

Those who don't know Linhardt well would assume that for the past few weeks, he has been ditching lecture in the Holy Name of Napping. But really, all his time has been wiled away within the library walls. Much of his time has been dedicated to Crest research; it'd be highly preferable to confront a Crest Scholar like Professor Hanneman, but the good man has been placed on probation due to circulating Emperor Edelgard's manifesto to the students.

So Linhardt has become all too familiar with the general soundscape of the place for him to not notice the soft _fwoosh!_ of a cloak passing through the doorway Fingers finally hooking onto the spine of the book, he flicks it until it finally slips free from the shelf and falls into his open hand. He turns to Byleth.

"I'm sure sneaking around Garreg Mach isn't the easiest thing," Linhardt feigns a yawn. "But I'm very tired. Could we do this later?"

Byleth's lips purse together, a little wrinkle of irritation knit between their eyebrows. "Have I hurt you, Lindhardt?"

"Confused me more like it," Linhardt drops the book onto the table and pulls a chair back. Once fully seated, he notices Byleth hasn't moved from the spot, and Linhardt feels an ounce of pity for them. Then again, the professor was never the best for social cues sometimes. So Linhardt kicks the seat across them out. "Do you and Edelgard share a Crest?"

Byleth looks off to the side. "I don't really want to talk about Crests."

Linhardt shrugs. "I just have a theory that — well — Edelgard's _second _Crest — " he pauses to check for Byleth's reaction, but their face remains blank. " — and yours might be what gravitates you so strongly together."

Byleth frowns. "You're asking why I crossed the line and stood with her?"

"Yes," Linhardt says. "What you did was most illogical, and it's not like you. They used to call you _The Ashen Demon, _right? There has to be… something, right?"

He dangles the _right?_ a little too much. How improper of a scholar like him. He needs to be more certain of his hypotheses.

"That could be true," Byleth mutters. "But that's not why I did it. I trust, Edelgard, I — "

"You don't have to tell me," Linhardt shrugs. "I know how you feel about her. But — Professor — we're — "

"Please don't call me Professor," Byleth interrupts. "I never quite gave a resignation but those days are over."

Linhardt pauses and thinks that over. It's bizarre sitting across his Professor in the library of all places, when a mere moon ago this would be considered normal. Now it's heresy. If discovered… they could be executed.

"What should I call you then?" Linhardt asks. "Ol' buddy, ol' pal?"

Byleth smiles warmly, clearly very amused by that quip. "It suits me."

Linhardt scoffs at that. "It wasn't _that_ funny."

Byleth shrugs, and finally settles in across Linhardt. "It's late. Far past curfew. I wouldn't be shocked if Seteth walked in on us with a lantern in hand."

How strange it is that they can make fun too. This whole predicament has left Linhardt feeling — unsettled. While he appreciates the good humor, it does little to quell his nerves. So he lets his cheeks go red when he blurts it out, "Are you really going to war for her, Byleth?"

Byleth nods immediately. "Yes."

"But…" Linhardt bites his lip. "Why? Why war?"

Byleth sighs and stretches their arms across the table, almost like a cat. "Rhea cannot be reasoned with."

Linhardt raises an eyebrow. "Say it with some conviction because I don't believe you."

Byleth seems taken aback, so Linhardt continues. "What? Are you surprised that I of all people — your student who wanted to raid the Holy Tomb for research — has at least some trust for Rhea?"

Byleth nods. It is almost as if no one has ever confronted Byleth about this. He knows that their father was not the biggest fan of the Church, but still… "I think Rhea is trying," Linhardt explains. "I think that — if we just sat down at a table… we could talk it through. It's what is supposed to happen."

Byleth folds their arms together, seemingly in deep thought. Many more words ignite into flame at the tip of Linhardt's tongue, but he waits for his teacher to at least process it all.

"There are…" Byleth says carefully, "...many things we are _supposed_ to do. Nobles aren't supposed to steal from commoners to become more powerful. Archbishops aren't supposed to execute heretics without a fair trial. And students aren't supposed to fight wars."

A prickle in his chest, Linhardt leans back and narrows his eyes. He's not sure whether it is appropriate to be angry or not. It isn't Byleth's fault that they performed so well that their House was given the graver assignments. Or perhaps it was. Linhardt always envied the Golden Deer and Blue Lions for not having to worry over so much bloodshed.

Linhardt chooses his next words carefully. "Do you… do you keep track of how many you have killed, Professor?"

Byleth pointedly stares at Linhardt, the name flashes _Byleth_ in their eyes, before they shrug and say, "Not really, no. I tried as a kid, but lost count early."

"I figured as much," Linhardt crosses his arms. "I do, regrettably. Ever since we had to fight those bandits at Zanado… I know that sometimes it has to be done, but — I don't want to live through a war."

Byleth leans back, gaze darkening. "Linhardt… war is the only way, I am sorry, and I hate to say it, but we're going to lose a lot of good people."

This is all so complicated, and it so late in the night. Linhardt wishes that he didn't sleep last night, because perhaps then he could have passed this off as a delusion but he has no choice but to accept it as reality.

Byleth continues, "The Church of Seiros is strong, yes, but it won't be long before Faerghus lends their arms to them. The Alliance is split evenly into factions that support us and don't support us… but it's very possible they will side against us. Then there is Brigid and Almyra. We don't have the best relationships with them for obvious reasons — they say that we are the conquerors, and — I think it'll be easier for any party to stomach siding against us. If that happens… we die."

"That's pessimistic," Linhardt frowns, wishing that there some way he could help. He doesn't want his closest friends to go down as the failed warlords of yesterday.

"It's reality," Byleth frowns back. "Plenty of people have a reason to hate the Empire. They don't understand that Edelgard isn't like the past rulers, that she wants to give power to the people."

Linhardt can't help his compulsion right now, despite how inappropriate it may be. "Why can't Edelgard just be Emperor and call it there?"

Byleth narrows their eyes. Obviously, there is some sort of secret that they don't wish to part with just yet. "She… no. I think you already know this. About what two Crests can do to someone, yes?"

Lysithea did swear Linhardt in to secrecy, but he supposes he can at least hint at the truth. "Yes. Are you saying that Edelgard doesn't have very long?"

Byleth's eyes drop to the table. "I'm not sure. She isn't either… I think she's scared of sharing the same fate as her father. Stripped of their power and left to die. I — I met her father recently and… it was… unpleasant."

"Ah," is all Linhardt can manage.

"I want everything for Edelgard," Byleth seems a little nervous here. "If we are effective, I think — I think we can win early, and not many will have to die. But until then, the Church will lose people, _we_ will lose people, and I want someone on the field to at least stop the flow of it all."

Wait, are they saying what he thinks they are saying? "The flow?"

"People die in wars. It doesn't matter what their intentions are once we get to the battlefield, and then they die," Byleth explains. "We have warriors ready to surrender their lives but I am uncomfortable with so many being so ready to perform that for Edelgard. I want a healer on the fields. Someone with a keen eye who can lend support to everyone who needs it. Who has empathy and resolve and…"

Linhardt shakes his head. "It's different healing a whole army compared to your friends. I'm aware of how I've saved your life and many others but… the people you kill, that's on me, too. You save someone and you begin to share those consequences."

"Yes," Byleth says with some finality. "I am asking you to look past that because you also want to see a world where Crests don't guide everything. You've gotten close enough with students like Lysithea and Marianne that you must understand that by now?"

Linhardt doesn't say anything. If anything, he is just embarrassed that Byleth knows so much about him when he's spent most of his time napping.

Off of Linhardt's silence, Byleth pounds both fists to the table and looks Linhardt in the eye. "We need you, Linhardt… no. Not just that, we _want _you."

"Y-y-you… want me?"

Byleth nods. "I wouldn't risk my life coming here if I didn't. Please."

This all so much to comprehend. It goes against so much of what they want. The hope and dream really was to graduate from Garreg Mach and return to a life of napping and puttering around. This path that Byleth has shown them probably won't allow for such a lifestyle. He might not even get to make choices on his own purpose, he might have to sacrifice everything, even his life, just for the possibility that his actions could really change things for the better.

And to say no to that possibility? Linhardt could probably never live with himself again.

"When do we leave?" Linhardt smirks. "Like I said — I'm _very _tired."

Byleth positively glows. "Within an hour. You can nap on the way to Enbarr."

"Oh Byleth. You should have just lead with that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I got excited about another Three Houses fic idea. It's a Coffee Shop AU where Edelgard and the Beagles destroy capitalism. It's called "Three Coffee Shops!" Check it out if you're interested.


	5. Petra

Petra cannot sleep. She tries to, but any moment she expects something of consequence to happen. It all started with the letter that Edelgard discreetly sent to her. It was — confusing, to say the least. But it seems that Edelgard wants her to join the Empire on the battlefield so they can change the world together and be friends.

But Petra doesn't believe that, or at least isn't sure if she should believe it. She tries to smile whenever the war comes up and act like she will not be involved. It's not like she… doesn't like Fodlan, but sometimes it is as if there is a knife held up to her throat. So much of Brigid is contingent specifically on her and the relationships that she builds.

She is surprised that is only Edelgard who has approached her. Any of the sides would want Brigid on their sides. If it is to come to that. No one seems to care how big this war gets it seems.

Nothing feels right anymore. It's like wading through a nightmare where nothing makes sense just yet.

Now Edelgard wants her to join forces with her. While the letter may not have mentioned Brigid at all, it feels like a ploy. Petra was used by Edelgard, and that became clear within the Holy Tomb. It is not something that she can forget easily.

So she prowls Garreg Mach at night. It isn't a conscious effort to be sneaky, but she does lurk in the shadows and often surprises the other guards. One night, she made Alois gasp in fear, and many other nights, she scared the Gatekeeper who is not so good at stealth. But Petra has never seen someone on campus that she doesn't know.

Until tonight.

It is a cloaked figure heading towards the dormitories. Petra tails them for a few minutes before getting antsy, so she dives from the darkness for a direct confrontation.

The figure whirls around, but Petra is faster and grips them by the wrist, shoving them into a wall. The hood flaps over the mystery person's head and Petra promptly realizes that though she may not have necessarily made a mistake, she is face to face with the Professor.

It is… awkward, to say the least. So Petra tries to make a joke.

"Erm… greetings, Professor!" Petra chirps. "Nothing is of report today."

A very long pause ensues and Petra begins to feel doubtful. While she is sure her friend, Alois, might have found some humor in that, Petra knows that she probably messed up something and now…

…giggling? The Professor giggles?

Well, perhaps it was funny.

* * *

Byleth and Petra sit on haystacks besides each other, neither of them making eye contact.

"So — Edelgard is wanting me to join her… um, not because of Brigid but because of _me_?"

Byleth looks over and smiles. "Yes."

Petra shakes her head, clasping her knees together. "If I am going to war, Brigid must be following me, I think."

Byleth frowns. Petra is thankful for how expressive the Professor's face is; it eliminates the need of so many confusing words.

"My people have had enough war," Petra says. "Why is Edelgard wanting me?"

Byleth looks at the sky thoughtfully. "I think… I think Her Majesty wants a pair of eyes and ears."

"But Edelgard is already having eyes," Petra furrows her brow, pinching her own earlobe. "And ears, I think."

Byleth nods patiently. "It's an expression. It's like a spy, sort of."

Petra bites her lip. "Hubert is of doing that."

Byleth nods again. "Yes. Hubert kills from the shadows, but he travels a lot. He's not at Her Majesty's side as much as he'd like."

"Please understand me," Petra says with sudden urgency. "It is not — it is not about Edelgard. I am feeling anger towards her, but — I am more worried about the war."

Byleth nods again. With each sentence, it as if Byleth needs a moment to calculate.

"I read Edelgard's manifesto," Petra adds. "Professor Hanneman showed it to us… it was… it was saying that Edelgard wants to get rid of the Crests."

"Yes," Byleth says softly.

"I am in agreement," Petra looks back to the sky. "But why did Edelgard betray us?"

Byleth nods at that too. Again, they are precise with their words. Some time passes before they respond.

"Edelgard works for powerful people. They are the people like Solon and — " Byleth grinds their teeth at the name. " — _Kronya._ She despises them, possibly more than we do, but she needs their power."

Petra pats her chest as she says this, "Are we not strong enough?"

Byleth shakes their head, and pulls free a sole strand of hay. "No."

"And the war, is it under the orders of… of Solon?"

Byleth shakes their head again. "It is Edelgard's war."

Petra turns away. She wishes Edelgard were here so she could explain herself. Byleth is thoughtful, but they seem conflicted themselves. They are a mere mouthpiece for the Queen, one that is not explaining things well. "Why did Edelgard need the Crest Stones?" Petra asks.

Byleth bends the piece of hay as far as it can go. "To create more Demonic Beasts — "

A clenching to Petra's heart; this is horribly wrong.

" — but please understand I am trying to persuade her not to use them," Byleth's plain face almost cracks the impression of desperation.

Petra shakes her head. "I… I hope that you will be succeeding in that, Professor."

Byleth looks at Petra for a long, as if there's something they want to say, but they turn away and wind back their shoulders. They seem so uneasy. Like they are sitting on top of something burning.

"I'm scared too, Petra," Byleth says suddenly, heels clicking together. "I've never been at war."

This might be the first time the Professor has ever expressed any sort of weakness before. Though their fear of war is typical, Petra does feel moved. They find themselves shuffling closer to the edge of their haystack.

"I do not fear war myself," Petra admits. "But my people have experienced too much of it. This is Fodlan's war. Not Brigid's."

"And hopefully not Almyra's," Byleth adds. "We already know that Faerghus will stand against us. The Alliance is currently split, it could really go either way."

Again, Byleth just seems so nervous. It makes Petra feel sorry for them. "Professor…"

"I'm not your Professor anymore, Petra," they rasp. "Maybe… on a different path, but not this one."

It is hard to watch, or even just hard to be. This is undesirable. Not how Petra wanted her reunion with her teacher to be. It gives them great pain to idly watch it happen, and not reach out. But if she were to reach out — Brigid would have to as well, wouldn't it?

"I don't know what to do," Petra says in a voice she thought might have carried more pain with it. But she just feels so distant. "I have no Crest. Brigid doesn't need them. If I were to go — it could be civil war for our country. We owe Fodlan nothing."

"Edelgard could find a way I'm sure to prevent Brigid's aide," Byleth says, somewhat noncommittally. Not with enough compassion to be definitive. "For what it's worth, I don't care for Fodlan."

Petra tilts her head to the side. "Oh?"

"No," Byleth says, now with that resolution Petra is more used to. "I care about my students and friends who have been hurt by Crests, and by corruption. It makes me sick. This is a chance to do something, to protect them. In the long run, I think students like Sylvain and Marianne… who have been hurt by Crests, while they might take up arms against us — I think they'll enjoy the future we make for them."

Petra isn't so sure about that. "What if you kill them, Professor?"

Byleth doesn't flinch. It's obvious they have thought about it. "Well, that would make me feel very sad."

Petra would feel sad too. Though she also knows there is a flipped version of that. She could cross blades with Edelgard too. Or some of the other Black Eagles, something about the way Byleth holds themselves tells Petra that she isn't the first one to be spoken to.

"If I may," Byleth drops the bent hay strand to the ground, and slides their knees up onto the stack, their legs jutting straight off the edge. "You are very good at pursuing things that you want, Petra. You need to trust your feelings on this, they'll steer you the right way."

"But what if the heart is wrong?"

She means it too. What if? But Byleth just smiles at that, just looks away like it might have been silly. It makes Petra angry, but when Byleth speaks, their voice is so soft, almost like a breeze across blades of grass.

"_At least you will know you tried._"

Many words were at Petra's tongue but just like that they vanish, leaving her empty. She leans back, pressing her lips together, trying to snatch at least one of those thoughts before they vanish, but she fails. She is back in this moment, more grounded than ever.

But quickly, the phantom comes again. It grabs her heart and squeezes, pulling it down and down and it hurts so much.

"I will be joining you," Petra rasps.

Immediately, the phantom releases its hold on her and everything feels normal again. Already, she knows, she will neve regret this. She gets to her feet and holds out her hand.

They do shake on it, but it takes a moment. Petra is positive that before Byleth reaches out, when Byleth takes a moment to wipe at the corner of their eye with their sleeve, that silver droplets pop off their face and fall through the air.

Petra frowns. "You are… crying? Will you be needing my — erm — shoulder — " She jabs her shoulder out awkwardly, lifting her braided hair off of her back. " — to cry on?"

Byleth sniffles and runs a hand across their nose, mopping up the snot. Ew. Petra has many habits that some find undesirable, but even that is not an activity they'd dare try. "Sorry," Byleth says promptly.

"It is okay," Petra nods politely. "You are — different, Professor. It hasn't been long but you are different."

Byleth shrugs. "It's inevitable. We'll all be different by the end of this."


	6. Ferdinand

Ferdinand's hands cup around the warm mug of tea, and he gently lifts the rim to his lips. "Oh, Professor," he sighs. "This Southern Fruit Blend is exquisite. Your capacity for remembering everyone's favorite tea is masterful.."

Byleth nods, barely concealing a smirk, as they lean back into the chair across Ferdinand's bed.

"Are you sure it's okay for us to be talking in here?" Ferdinand asks, still dressed in his goofy looking pajamas. For some reason, he's been taking the Professor showing up at his door in the middle of the night with a calm gracefulness. It is nice to have company and even when that company is a fugitive, Ferdinand cannot say no to tea.

"Yes. Dorothea's room is empty," Byleth nods towards the eastern wall. "And Ashe's room is too far down for him to hear us, unless you go all big noble on me."

Ferdinand's face scrunches up. "I only go big noble on you so you feel the same security everyone should feel around good nobles."

Byleth smiles. Same ol' Ferdinand. But he does seem a little less… _bouncy_ than usual.

Not sure how to begin the conversation, Byleth digs into their satchel and pulls free a bag of tea leaves. They gently hand it over to Ferdinand, who immediately pops open the bag's seal to give it a whiff. "Ah, excellent quality," he sighs wistfully. "Where did you procure this?"

"I am not sure," Byleth smiles. "It's not from me. It's from Hubert."

"Hubert?!" Ferdinand just about drops his tea. When he recovers, he looks to Byleth with the widest eyes. "Oh my, what would — this isn't poison, is it?"

"No," Byleth smirks. "I threatened to kill him if he did that to you. Don't worry."

"Hm…" Ferdinand dangles the bag in the air. "Fascinating."

"Is it?" Byleth asks. From what they know, Ferdinand's adoration for tea is largely known by everyone at Garreg Mach. Even by Lady Rhea regrettably.

"Usually Hubert gave me coffee beans as a gift," Ferdinand shakes his head, placing the bag on an end table. "To anger me, I think. Because he knows that I cannot stand such horrible filth."

Byleth does remember the one time they had tea with Hubert, he did make a point early in by quipping, _Personally, I prefer coffee._

Ferdinand smiles to himself, and it is a nice moment. The boy deserves kindness after all. But this nice moment ends quickly.

"I assume you are here to recruit me into the army," Feridnand cuts right to brass tacks, uncrossing his legs and touching his feet to the floorboards. "I decline the offer."

Byleth almost spills their tea; they kind of expected this conversation to go easily.

"I heard that one of Edelgard's first actions as Emperor was placing my father under house arrest," it's not hard to detect the disdain in Ferdinand's voice. "I understand he was a bad man, and not kind to his community. But I have lost everything because of that action and… erm, you wanted to say something, Professor?"

Byleth nods. "It was her very first action. I was there."

Ferdinand pales. "Why does Edelgard resent me so, Professor?"

"She doesn't," Byleth says softly. "She greatly admires you, but your Father had destabilized the prior Emperor's reign. It's unacceptable, especially for a mission like Her Majesty's that is so bold."

Ferdinand leans back, and his lips are as pursed as one who just bit into a lemon. "Bold? Yes. But for the greater good? Ha, I do not believe so. The nobility are groomed to be rulers. We are taught the best, and given the most, and we give all back that we can. Taking that away is ludicrous… what will the people do?"

Byleth shakes their head. "It's not about that."

"Then — " Ferdinand nearly shouts, but fortunately catches himself. "Excuse me… I am… not having the greatest of weeks, Professor."

"I understand," Byleth rasps back. "Do you know that Edelgard admires you?"

Ferdinand gags. "Praytell, what depraved thing I have done to earn such appraisal from someone so abhorable?"

Such talk hurts Byleth. It makes them angry. They have sacrificed everything for this woman, and they wish that would be enough. But it can never so simple. Ferdinand's rage is understandable.

"Most nobles, and don't deny this, Ferdinand, I taught you better," Byleth carefully explains. "They abuse their power to make their own lives better, and show little concern for their people. You, Ferdinand, would be a great King. But not every noble, not every one born with a Crest, wants to do good like you."

"I understand." Ferdinand bows his head, and nervously runs a hand through his hair. "Recently, erm, Professor Hanneman, he — he distributed literature to our class. I, of course, had a fundamental problem with it, that being it was Edelgard's manifesto. So I stormed into his room to make him understand that his actions were not acceptable and…"

Ferdinand stops talking. For a while, they both listen to the quiet sound of their fellow peers sleeping, not knowing they would wake up the next morning to find many of their friends missing.

After some time, Byleth notes Ferdinand's discomfort. Perhaps it stems from Hanneman's origins? From what they've gathered, the Crest scholar hails from the Empire where he once served as a noble. But after the Crest system damaged his sister, he retreated to Garreg Mach where he felt that instead of being part of the problem, he could uncover a way to gift a Crest to everyone so that the system may be abolished.

"I had no idea," Ferdinand shakes his head, as if he had just explained outloud what Byleth was thinking. "He is a good man. I told him he should leave Garreg Mach and return to the Empire where he can use his ideas to protect the people."

Byleth knows that those ideals will never become reality. But Byleth can't be the one to tell Ferdinand that.

Fortunately, Ferdinand adds on, "But I suppose… the only way for such ideals to spread is through a leader like Edelgard, correct?"

Byleth nods.

Ferdinand nods back, and rises so that he is straight up. Regal.

"That is where I have an issue, Professor."

"Edelgard?" Byleth gently suggests.

"No," he wags a finger. "I'm not that petty. I'm worried about war. Too often have the commoners suffered over disputes from the nobility. Edelgard intends to do good, but her actions will hurt those who are not directly impacted by Crests. By corrupt nobles like my father."

"We know," Byleth almost wants to reach out for Ferdinand, but it feels risky. "We are trying to keep civilian casualties to a minimum. I know that the Emperor is — _cold_ — sometimes, but she wants good things for Fodlan, and she wants you by her side."

Ferdinand's eyes narrow, and he raises the mug to hide his disgruntlement, giving it time to pass over. "She said that?"

"Yes," Byleth says.

Ferdinand drops his mug, cheeks red, and he laughs. "Oh, that's rich! She wants _me_ at her side? Why would she want that when she has Hubert — "

"Hubert is away from the castle quite often," Byleth suggests. "Perhaps you never uncovered this in all of your spats, but he strays from what Her Majesty wants often."

His eyes narrow even farther.

So suspicious.

He is like Bernadetta once she catches on that the cake she is being lead to in the middle of the forest is actually a heavily armed bandit keep.

"Does Edelgard know?" Ferdinand asks.

Byleth understands his distrust; it wasn't up until after the Holy Tomb that Edelgard and Hubert began to show Byleth their true colors. Edelgard, once guarded and private, is open and emotional. Hubert, once humorless and threatening, is direct and thoughtful. Despite the widening pool of blood at their feet. They are good people, it's just that none of their Eagles got a chance to meet them once their defenses lowered.

"Yes, Her Majesty puts a lot of faith into her people, and though some of your ideals conflict with hers," Byleth explains. "She trust you and wants you to be with us. If we had more time in the Holy Tomb…"

"...I would have walked with you then," Ferdinand says suddenly, almost ashamed of it. "You must understand, Professor, this isn't an easy decision to make."

"I know," Byleth echoes.

"Surely, I am one of the most powerful Black Eagles so what I am to say doesn't concern me," Ferdinand says with some resolution, clutching his mug far tighter than need be. "But we would be going against the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, the Church of Seiros, and possibly, the Leicester Alliance. Isn't it… isn't it possible that we may die?"

"Ferdinand…" Byleth says so softly, unsure of what to do to comfort this boy. "It's been like that all year. Every moon, we've risked our lives for something. You've known the risks. What makes it different now?"

Ferdinand frowns and looks into his tea. "I'm not speaking of myself."

"Oh?" Byleth tilts their head to the side.

"Yes," Ferdinand rasps. "Hubert is one concern. If he lurks in the shadows for too long, the wrong people may find him, and… well… Edelgard will be… taking the frontlines, won't she?"

Byleth nods. That is still a very complicated topic, but it's not like their feelings will stop Edelgard from doing what she believes is right. "You're worried about Edelgard?" Byleth asks.

"Well," Ferdinand bites his lip. "You could say that. I am also worried her death may — may make her reality impossible. Not every noble has ideals like her… I don't even know if I'm at _that_ point either."

This is a bit more relaxing to hear. This is less about ideals now. It's easier to be the boy's Professor for this kind of conversation.

"Bernadetta, Caspar, Linhardt, and Petra are all willing to lay their lives on the line for these ideals… as am I, Hubert, and Edelgard…"

"Dorothea?" Ferdinand raises an eyebrow.

Ah, Dorothea. What will likely be the hardest conversation, and probably the one Byleth should have started with. "I am speaking to her next," they say quietly.

"Ah," Ferdinand says.

"Yes," Byleth sucks on their teeth for a moment. "If you're worried about getting close enough to these powerful people enough to feel sorry for their deaths, that is inevitable if you stay in this dorm room tonight. You would assist Dimitri, or even Claude. And…" and they brandish a wicked smirk. "...we will crush Faerghus and any of those who stand in our way."

Ferdinand's eyes get so wide. "You're… you're…."

"Joking?" Byleth suggests.

Ferdinand coughs, obviously having thought Byleth to be serious. So naive. Maybe that was a little mean. "A little gallows humor, then?" he manages a chuckle past the wheezing. His face does seem a little brighter now. "I am terrified of going to war, Professor."

"Well how about this," Byleth crosses their ankles. "People will die when we go to war, but even more people will die if we fail. This is the best case scenario. Trust me."

Ferdinand looks away, somewhat sheepish. "You are probably right, and if not Edelgard, it will be someone else who will call this country to war, and they may be far less noble than her... Professor, if you really believe that Edelgard _wants_ me at her side, that I can make a difference towards this incredibly wonderful world that she is concocting… then perhaps it would be foolish of me to stay?"

Byleth nods. It's hard to hold back their smile.

"You've made it sound as if we are leaving tonight?" Ferdinand gets to his feet, reaching for his traveling cloak.

"Yes," Byleth nods, and because they can't help themselves, lunges forward and embraces the boy in a hug. Some tea spills to the floor, and then the whole mug crashes onto the floorboards as Ferdinand, the best hugger of the Black Eagles, embraces Byleth tightly. Byleth thinks they hear a sob muffle into their shoulder.

They can only hope that Dorothea will be so understanding.


	7. Dorothea

Time is running out, as evidenced by the blood orange skies. It would be wise to turn tail now and go, possibly return for Dorothea at another time. But that would be cruel. There are many who would tell Byleth to leave Dorothea in that case, because war is cruel and any cruelty is just standard. But Byleth refuses. None of their students may be left behind.

But Dorothea is nowhere to be found. She is not at the harbor nor the greenhouse nor the dormitories nor the library nor the dining hall nor the training grounds nor… it only leaves one place. A place that Byleth has never seen Dorothea at before, a place that might signify it's too late to bring Dorothea onto their path: The Church of Seiros itself. But Byleth must try.

Panting from having sprint down the length of the bridge, Byleth slinks under the massive archway, hand held to the hilt of their sword. This would be the easiest place to be ambushed.

Chills rivet up Byleth's skin. It has less to do with the possibility of crossing swords with Catherine, or even Cyril, and far more to do with the Church itself. Though the woman is nowhere to be found, Byleth can feel Rhea's presence all over. Can hear her voice calling them "_Child_" so gently. As is she ever truly cared for them, cared for anyone.

It's the first time Byleth have ever really thought about Rhea since the Holy Tomb. She looked at Byleth with utter contempt, her voice crackling with rage, even her closest retainers startled by the outburst. Byleth is thankful for Rhea because, without her, they might not even be alive and they surely would have never met their students — though calling them just _students_ seems lackluster now. Byleth owes Rhea so much, but maybe that doesn't matter. Maybe that kind of code of honor has no place in a war like this.

Be that as it may, Byleth snaps to attention when their hunch proves correct and they find Dorothea praying before the altar. With the rising sun splintering shafts of light through stained glass windows, there isn't much time to be gentle, so Byleth speaks out loud. "I never saw you as the praying type."

Dorothea's shoulders fall, and she turns back, face plain in its despair. "I didn't know where else to go."

Dorothea's expression is too vacant. There should be some semblance of shock, right? It's like the girl was expecting her… cruel though it may be, Byleth does unsheath their sword carefully, keeping an eye on the exits.

"No one's going to ambush you, Professor, don't worry," Dorothea steps closer, hands palming her elbows. "I just — I saw you earlier, talking to Bernadetta at the pier. I knew you'd come for me so I went to the last place you'd expect to find me at."

Byleth nods. They trust her. "You're scared of this too, huh?" Byleth manages a smile.

Dorothea's brow furrows and it's then that Byleth knows that may have been a poor choice of words.

"Scared?!" Dorothea shouts, marching forward now. "That's not even the half of it — disappointed more like it, I think."

Byleth frowns. "Disappointed? In who?" they speak gently, hoping Dorotha will understand that they cannot be loud.

"I-i-in Edie!" Dorothea snaps, her voice echoing off the chamber walls. She does seem to note that at least, and lowers her volume down to a simmer. She hisses, "I thought she was different from the other nobles, I really did, Professor. But look at her now. She's started a war, just like any other noble desperate for power would."

Ah, yes. The nobility and their many errors.

"This war isn't about power," Byleth shakes their head. "Come on, Dorothea. You know better than that."

Dorothea bites her lip, and actually sheds a tear. "Of course I do," her voice is low and husky, like it's restrained by something horrible. "But war isn't the answer. All Edelgard is going to manage is to kill not just the horrible, evil nobles, Rhea, and whatever other people Edie deems to be a sycophant, but our friends too."

Byleth's face falls. They know that Dorothea is close with some of the Blue Lion students, among some others. "Are you referring to Sylvain and Felix?" Byleth tries.

"Yes!" Dorothea spits out. "Of course I am — those two have known Dimitri his whole life, of course they'll side with him and — " she pinches the bridge of her nose, as if to settle her temper. Her eyes reopen into slits, voice thick with biting sarcasm. " — does it make them bad people, Professor? To side with Dimitri?"

Byleth has known for a while now that though Claude is certainly not destined to be a casualty in this war, Dimitri most certainly will be. "I would prefer it if they didn't die, of course," Byleth says, but their voice is too weak to make it sound like a true possibility.

"Prefer whatever you want, Professor," Dorothea growls. "They still die."

Byleth considers that. "I think they would be misguided, yes.

"I'm not sure if Caspar or Petra mentioned it, but the two of them got into a fight with Dimitri pretty recently," Dorothea closes her eyes again, voice shaky. "Dimitri was bragging about how he will — I can't bear to say it, Professor, but he wants to hurt Edie. Badly. He's out for blood."

Byleth squeezes their fists together, hoping to find some answers for Dorothea but nothing comes to mind.

"We are already — so — divided," Dorothea pleads. "It's only going to get worse. No one will be allowed to stay neutral, everyone will have to fight, and people will die over which noble they choose to side with. It doesn't matter who we are, not to people like Dimitri and—and Edie."

"I think that's a little cynical," is all Byleth can manage.

"Maybe. But what else am I supposed to think? Edelgard always said that she wanted to change the world," Dorothea squeezes her arms tighter to her chest. "I didn't think she meant like this."

Byleth nods. "I know."

Something about that unsettles Dorothea. She pricks up her chin. "Do you, though? Didn't you used to kill people for money? I heard that you didn't even feel anything when you did it."

This isn't Dorothea. She's just upset, and lashing out. Byleth just has to remember that, and maybe they can get through this.

"Sorry," Dorothea tags on to her outburst. "That was mean."

"It's alright," Byleth's shoulders slump. "It's warranted. Um. Dorothea, could you come over to me? There's something I want to show you. It's — a secret. One that not even Edelgard knows about."

"Um… alright?" Dorothea, arms still crossed at the chest, approaches Byleth as if walking on ice.

"Feel my heartbeat."

Dorothea does. Her arm stays outstretched long past the point of understanding that Byleth has no heartbeat. Her hand crunches inward and draws back slowly. "What… are you… are you dead?"

"No," Byleth shrugs, though they never really considered that. Who knows really. "When I was born, Rhea did something to me. At least, that's what my Father wrote in his diary."

"D-did what?" Dorothea stumbles.

Again, Byleth shrugs. "I wish I knew. But the reason I tell you this is that — " they freeze, This is hard for them.

" — why you hate Lady Rhea?" Dorothea suggests.

Byleth shakes their head. "No, it's why I value you. I think — I think whatever Rhea did to me is what — what made me become someone who could be called _The Ashen Demon_. But I'm not like that anymore. Not since Garreg Mach, and it's because of all of you. You've given me so much."

Dorothea rears back, sizing Byleth up carefully. "What are you saying?"

Byleth closes their eyes in thought. "Of course the idea of killing Dimitri, Felix, Sylvain, Alois, Catherine, Claude… any of them… any of _you_ scares me. I don't want to become that cold mercenary again. But I'll risk it if it will support Edelgard and her vision for Fodlan."

Dorothea bows her head deeper. "I'm afraid of that too. The killing. I've already killed so many… you know? It does things to someone."

"It does," Byleth echoes. "But Dorothea — what are you truly afraid of?"

Dorothea finally looks up, finally finds Byleth's eyes. "Killing someone I love under a noble's orders."

Byleth feels so sorry for her. Gently, they touch Dorotheae's shoulders, and promptly feels her flesh relax under their touch. "You know Edelgard isn't like that. She's not a noble."

"Then what is she?" Dorothea is crying now.

"Our friend," Byleth smiles gently, wiping the tears from Dorothea's face. "You love her as she loves you. Yes, she may rule and yes, she may conquer, but if we stay together, we can keep her on track. Hold her accountable. As she can do for Ferdinand — as Ferdinand can do for Petra — as Petra can do for — "

Dorothea waves Byleth off. "Okay, okay. I get it. I get it."

Byleth's arms fall slack at their sides. "But will you come with us?"

Dorothea looks to the floor. Byleth says no more; not another word will do any good. It's up to their student now.

Dorothea wipes more tears from her eyes. Still snivelling, she says, "C-c-can I st-stil give Edie a hard time now that she's the Emperor?"

Byleth grins from ear to ear and spreads their arms wide. "C'mere."

"Huh?" Dorothea frowns. "What? You do hugs now? Uh, yeah. Okay. I like hugs."

They share a precious few seconds together in a tight embrace. Moments later, they take each other hand-in-hand and sprint down the length of the bridge and down to the marketplace.

Their Eagles are waiting for them.


	8. Edelgard

"Professor, you are obviously up to something," Edelgard deadpans, hand planted firmly into her hip.

Byleth peels back a lock of their hair. "Forgive me, I'm not sure as to what you mean."

The two stand across each other in Edelgard's makeshift throne room. The room was quickly put together in her standby fort after Edelgard formalized her intent to take Garreg Mach. Having not seen each other for the past few days, Edelgard promptly finds herself disappointed as to how coy her beloved teacher is acting about where they had run off to.

"I swear, it's just supplies," Byleth shrugs, gesturing over to the homely caravan waiting before them.

Edelgard narrows her eyes. "Why would we need supplies? We're doing pretty well."

Byleth blushes. Though it is certainly cute, it makes their deception all the more obvious. What in Seiros' name is her teacher hiding in that caravan? Edelgard would like it if maybe Rhea's severed draconic head is inside the wooden shambles, but that is terribly unlikely. Someone would have said something by now.

"Allow me a moment, Your Majesty," Hubert says, briskly passing by the two, clad in a new uniform. High collared with a cape, hair cut into a fine swoop draping over his left eye, he looks like a conqueror. Pulling a stick from his hilt, he pokes away at the caravan, muttering things under his breath.

Byleth's expression scrunches up into a very obvious poker face, and Edelgard really wishes that they could just get this surprise over with.

Finally, Hubert shakes his head, clicking his tongue, announcing a loud and bold, "_No_." He snaps his fingers and instantaneously the caravan is surrounded by a legion of Dark Spikes. They hover in the air for a moment before crashing into the caravan, piercing through the wood only to slingshot back and pirouette into a yet-undestroyed section.

"No!" Byleth shouts out in distress.

Ah, perhaps the prize is Rhea's severed head! For Hubert to impale it into a pincushion would tarnish the possibility of Edelgard mounting the ugly thing on her wall, which would upset Byleth.

The caravan collapses, walls falling flat to the ground and revealing a densely stacked pile of her former Eagles. They roll off each other in spectacular fashion and crash to the ground. Edelgard shoots Byleth a scathing look, before turning to the Black Eagles to say —

— nothing. Caspar speaks first. Stomach balanced at the tippity top of the pile, he splays out his limbs and shouts, "Surprise!"

Fighting off the faint red crawling into her cheeks, Edelgard stutters, "Wh-what is the meaning of this? What are you all doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Ferdinand is the first to rise to his feet. He quickly fixes his tousled hair so as to be presentable. "We are joining your army. Incidentally, I love what you've done with your hair, Hubert."

Hubert offers a rare smile. "Thank you. I put a lot of thought into how I would adjust it and — erm…" He coughs into his gloved hand and assumes a very Imperial stance. " — refrain from complimenting me again, else I might have second thoughts as to my hairdresser's taste."

Edelgard rolls her eyes. Coy as Byleth might be, Hubert is even worse. He sent the Von Aegir boy his favorite tea leaves for crying out loud!

Hubert continues. "While I admit it is pleasant to see your faces," he pointedly pauses to nod over to Petra and Linhardt, who are still brushing themselves off. "We must prepare a new caravan to ferry you back to Garreg Mach before — "

"Hubie, what are you talking about?" Dorothea spits, crossing her arms in a huff. "We just got here."

"Oh no," Bernadetta crouches down, arms over her head. "Hubert is gonna kill us. I knew this would happen if we — "

" — I can't believe I took such a short nap only to wake up for this," Linhardt moans, massaging his soar tuckus.

"Wait," Edelgard cries out, drawing all eyes onto her. "Forgive my confusion but… wh-why are you here? You understand who I am now, correct?"

Caspar raises an eyebrow as if Edelgard just asked the dumbest question ever. "Um. Yeah, you're Edelgard… oh! Oh! You mean, you're — " and he tosses on a menacing voice, hands scrunching in like claws. " — _The Flame Emperor!_"

Linhardt smacks his hand up to his forehead. "Caspar, you don't just call people that."

Caspar frowns. "Why not?"

"Blunt as Caspar may be," Edelgard cuts in, sticking her nose into the air. "I am the Flame Emperor, and on the twenty-second day of the Pegasus Moon, I tried to kill all of you."

Caspar shrugs. "So?"

Edelgard's eye twitches. "So?! So I — I'm your enemy, Caspar. For you to ally yourself with me — "

"What about the Professor?" Caspar points out.

Edelgard looks over to Byleth. "They're — they're an exception! Clearly, you all being here shows a lack of judgment. You must leave at once. Forget about me."

None of the Black Eagles move from their spots.

Dorothea pats Caspar on the shoulder and steps forward. "Everyone, raise your hands if Hubert has ever threatened to kill you."

So many of her friends raise their friends that Edelgard almost feels left out. "Well, that doesn't prove — "

"Keep your hands up," Dorothea interrupts snidely. "If you are still alive."

Caspar is the only one to drop his hand. But after a nudge to the ribs from Linhardt's elbow, his hand swings back up.

"See?" Dorothea smiles. "Clearly, your threats are not to be taken seriously. On the other hand, Dimitri actually hurt Petra and Caspar a few days ago after threatening them."

Edelgard narrows her eyes and looks to Caspar and Petra. "Is this true?"

Caspar bites his lip and looks away. Petra nods in affirmation. "He was of saying horrible things about your head, Edelgard," Petra explains.

Edelgard begins to scold her friends for going up against Dimitri when such actions might be woefully misinterpreted as treason, but Linhardt steps forward with a grave face. It's not an expression she is used to from the boy, so she stays silent.

"The school, as you'd expect, is censoring everything from your side of the war," Linhardt says. "They congratulated Dimitri for attacking us, but punished Professor Hanneman for distributing your pamphlets."

Hanneman distributed her pamphlets? How oddly touching. She never suspected any of the Professors would side with her after everything she has done or been a part of…

"Furthermore," Ferdinand steps forward. "While I disagree with absolutely every point on your manifesto, and implore you to debate me so that I can show you the error of your ways, I believe that hiding the truth is unacceptable. Not only has Rhea shown her true colors by turning into a scary dragon, she has shown her lack of interest in keeping an open forum. That is not the mark of a true noble."

Even Ferdinand is speaking up for her? How could any of this be? She thought that after ousting Duke Aegir, that she would lose one of her closest friends forever. None of this makes sense.

"Is this a distraction?" Edelgard spits out, disappointed in how shaky her voice is. "This isn't funny. I will listen to you all day, but please promise me this isn't…"

Byleth touches Edelgard's shoulder, and while she would love to shove the person off her, she can't manage that.

"This is the truth, Edelgard," Ferdinand frowns. "Are you… crying?"

Edelgard nods gently, brushing some of the tears from her eyes. This is it. This must be the moment when they walk away, now that they have seen how pathetic she is.

"Wow, the Emperor cries too," Bernadetta says to herself in wonder, likely unaware as to how loud she is being.

Oh Bernadetta. Maybe in a different world, Edelgard could be her friend and devote more time to comforting her…

"Oh course Edelgard cries," Ferdinand says with a brave face, as if Edelgard can't hear him. "She's only human. Just like us."

And Ferdinand. On a different path, Edelgard could work with Ferdinand to find what insecurity he must carry that causes him to so heavily focus his inadequacies onto Edelgard… and help him squash it.

"I'm not human," Edelgard shakes her head. "Do you understand what I've done? I kidnapped Flayn."

"That was the Death Knight," Linhardt says quickly. It's as if they prepared for Edelgard to cite that.

"Who never once went out of his way to attack us," Dorothea adds on.

"Dude's a chump anyways," Caspar laughs. "You guys heard about how Lysithea chased him out of the marketplace that one time, right?"

Edelgard leers at them all. "Fine! Well how about Remire then? I poisoned those people, I decimated an entire village."

"I thought that was Solon?" Bernadetta pats her head in confusion.

It's actually Hubert that assists Bernadetta on that one. He looks to Edelgard defiantly, possibly for the first time ever. "That was Solon. You are correct, Bernadetta."

Edelgard steps back. "The students that became Demonic Beasts…"

"...you had to have not known," Ferdinand offers. "Your fright that day was too genuine."

Edelgard pales. This can't be happening. How they could say these things to her?

"I killed Jeralt!" Edelgard screams now.

The grip on her shoulder gets tighter; Edelgard forgot that Byleth was still there.

"You did no such thing," her teacher says in such a still voice. Another hand pats Edelgard's shoulder and pivots her around to face Byleth head on. "Kronya did. Her boss might as well have told us that she wasn't supposed to do that, with the way he treated her."

Edelgard frowns and looks away. She can't stand it any longer. "Thales. His name is Thales. He's — he's my uncle. Or… he killed my uncle long before I was born and — took his form."

Byleth nods. "Tell them that."

They're both whispering now.

"I can't, I'm not ready," Edelgard says. "They'll… think less of me."

"They won't," Byleth shakes their head, and turns Edelgard around to face their friends. "I won't make you do it, Edelgard. But… it will only help. Not just them, but you too, I think."

Edelgard steps forward and looks back to Byleth, and for a moment, tries her hardest to smile. "Call me El."

The smile stays.

Edelgard tells them. Tells them about the dungeon she rotted in while her siblings were dissected by Those Who Slither in the Dark. Tells them about the experiments and how a second Crest was forced into her bloodstream. Tells them how she has been groomed since childhood to become a weapon.

She tells them about Thales and how he has threatened to eradicate her if she steps out of line. She tells them about Kronya, and how she was planted at Garreg Mach without Edelgard's permission to keep an eye on her. She tells them her theory that Kronya only killed Jeralt to push Byleth & Co. even farther away.

Tells them how helpless she has felt, and how, even now, at what might be the peak of her reign, how she fears of what will happen.

No one says anything for some time.

Then Dorothea stands forward defiantly. "Edie… you…" She shakes her head. "You've been alone for a long time, but how can you say that you are still powerless? We're here, we always have been, and we always win."

The students eagerly watch for Edelgard's reaction. Even Hubert is transfixed by the moment, his guard finally lowered.

Bernadetta steps forward. "Edelgard… you always tell me to shut up so I can listen, a-a-and th-that maybe if I do… I won't think everyone hates me so bad."

Tears well up in Edelgard's eyes, and she wills them to stay still. She nods to Bernadetta.

"Y-yes?" Bernadetta asks. "You're — you're saying _Yes_?"

It's hard to hear Edelgard above all the sniffling, so though she says, "Yes," she nods her head up and down so that the message can be all the more clear.

No one knows what to do with that.

Not until Hubert steps forward and gently says, "No one may repeat what I am about to say, but I believe this situation calls for a group hug?"

What once felt like an alternate reality where nothing made sense now feels completely correct.

Together, they ride.

**Author's Note:**

> You can [follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/IAmLordMeatwad) for tweets about my cats and fanfic, and [follow me on Insta](https://www.instagram.com/katrinajagelski/) for similar stuff. Occasionally I do live reads for my original fiction and fanfic.


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